


Paper Houses

by sheepskin22



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alix is a badass, F/M, Kim wishes he were a badass, and Sabine ships it, potential Alix/Kim, rated T+ for language and some hardcore (?) action, strong focus on how badass Alix is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-08-29 14:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8493508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheepskin22/pseuds/sheepskin22
Summary: Alix has had one hell of a day.  Hawkmoth's most recent victim roams the streets of Paris with destruction in her wake, Alix is taken hostage, and she still has that science project to finish.
aka Alix Goes on an Adventure AKA No More Libraries for Alix, Ever





	1. In which everything is shit

“Alix.  Alix!”

She was drifting through a gray haze.  Someone was yelling at her, from somewhere she couldn’t see.  The sound was muffled, distant, and it took every ounce of focus that she had to follow it.

Awareness, when it came, came suddenly, followed by an obnoxious ringing in her ears and a sickening pain pulsating through her left shin.  It was darker, oddly, with her eyes open.  She fought off a flood of breathless panic and sat up with a groan.

Immediately, she felt a responding flurry of action to her right.  Air rushed past her cheek and she stiffened, then yelped as large hands ran gently up her side to trace the lines of her face.

Alix had always prided herself on her instincts.  Speedskating through the hectic streets of Paris demanded foresight and reflexive action, demanded that she allow her mind to take a passive role and leave the decision-making to her body.

And if, as in that moment, her body made the decision to swing a blind but well-aimed punch toward the solar plexus of her unknown molester, well, she would stand by that decision.

Oooon the other hand, she really hadn’t expected the wall of abdominal muscle that met her fist to LAUGH.  And she certainly hadn’t expected that laugh to sound in any way familiar.

“Kim?”

“Alix -”

“Kim, oh thank god.  You got captured too, man?”

“Only because we got stuck in the shoe store at the mall while everything was going to shit.  The stampede of people outside was  _ unreal _ .”

She grinned.  “Couldn’t keep up, Herc?  No surprises there.”

“ _ You  _ try throwing yourself into that panic fest, I  _ dare _ you.”

“If the opportunity ever arises again, I’ll take you up on that.”

“No!”  She jumped as he unexpectedly threw his arms around her midsection.  Blessedly, he didn’t seem to notice, having already moved on.  “You live in PARIS, OF COURSE this’ll happen again!  I take back the dare, I don’t want to have to clean you up off the pavement -”

She snorted and lifted a hand to pat Monsieur Drame on the arm, but stopped short when she heard another laugh, light and feminine, coming from her left.  “We got stuck in the shoe store,” Kim had said.  Who was in the room with them?  Ignoring the pleas that Kim was pressing into her spine (“Remember Mufasa, Al!  Don’t!  Be!  Mufasa!”), she disentangled herself and turned towards the sound.

“H-hello?  Who’s there?”

“Hello,” a cheerful voice greeted her.  “Alix, was it?  My name is Sabine.”

Kim crawled around to her side.  “She’s Marinette’s mom.”

Mme. Cheng.  Huh.  Alix could recall a nice, pretty woman, almost (almost) as short as her.  She’d been to the bakery before, of course - every one of her classmates had, with the possible exception of Chloe - but could conjure only a vague picture of the woman in her mind.  M. Dupain, she supposed, made a bigger impression.

“I take it,” continued Mme. Cheng when the silence had been drawn out for too long, “that you are also one of Marinette’s classmates?  Kim was just telling me -” Kim, unaccountably, stiffened beside her “- about some of my daughter’s more...interesting habits.  I hear she’s not much for time-keeping.  As for her crush on that sweet Adrien boy, I already know, Kim, but I would love to hear more.”

Ignoring the woman’s mischievous tone and what was sure to be a very enthusiastic response from Kim (who Alix knew was on par with Alya in terms of sheer gossip instinct), Alix took the opportunity to prod along her left leg, which was still pulsating with pain.  Had she twisted it?  No - no, that was definitely a break.  Her stomach lurched as she trailed her fingers tenderly over the small but disproportionately unpleasant jut of bone beneath her skin.

Paris, predictably, was under attack.  This time, from some B-rank architect who’d gotten sick of the disrespect that their ideas had received in review with their clients (that is, if Alya’s hurried reports were accurate).  The akuma had sent its victim into a productive frenzy of sorts, drawing up new blueprints at an incredible clip.

Alix had been in the deserted library, reluctantly working on a project for her science class.  She had heard that Ladybug and Chat Noir were battling l’Architecte, a young woman by the civilian name of Jaquette Barre, in  La Défense.  The skyscrapers in the area had been turned into massive weapons, uprooted and altered in pursuit of l’Architecte’s foremost goal - the capture or decimation of Paris’ heroes.  

Alix, armed with this knowledge, had made the ultimately faulty judgement call that a library within the residential areas of Paris’ south side was far enough from the super-powered splash zone that it would be safe to go get some work done.  As safe as anywhere in the city, anyway.

As Kim had said, this was Paris.  Akuma attacks were, if not mundane, then certainly part of the city’s norm.  Some cities had consistently tardy public transportation, Paris had remotely-controlled superpowered civilians-turned-villains.  A cross to bear - not pleasant, but comfortable in its regularity.  

Homework still needed to be done, however, and Alix was about halfway through gathering information for her project when the screams from the street began to pierce the library’s silent and studious atmosphere, alerting its few patrons of what was very likely happening outside.  They had all frozen where they stood, assuming the library’s relative safety for the time being (and ready to run the second that safety was compromised).

Let’s reiterate - old.  Fucking.  Hat.

They all stood like statues, barely thinking to breathe, when suddenly, with a great ripping  _ crack _ , one side of the building lifted itself from its foundation, curling alarmingly upwards.  The entire building began to roll in on itself, support beams splintering.

As one end of the building reared skyward, Alix and the library’s other patrons tumbled down the sloping floors to the end of the library which was still on the ground.  Having reached the bottom, Alix spat out a curse - the curl of the polished wooden floorboards was now so extreme that the bookcases - heavy wooden monuments that had not been moved in the century and a half that the library had stood there, laden with books and weighing literal tons - tilted and began gradually to fall, like enormous dominoes.  There were no exits along this wall - the activity inside had flung the doors to the library open invitingly, but the doorway was now almost parallel to the ground and so high in the air that all Alix could see through its frame was blue sky.

She scrambled to her feet, heart pounding with an adrenaline rush the likes of which she had never experienced, even during what she could remember of her brief thrillride as Timebreaker. 

“In the aisles!” she cried, beginning to run - the other patrons, cottoning on, ran too - some, like Alix, to the center aisle, and some to the sides.  Alix turned to watch - the bookshelves were falling faster now, tipping more quickly towards them - books were raining down onto their upturned heads.  The head librarian, a sixty-something woman with a penchant for making people feel like they had loud bells attached to their ankles when they came in the front door, let out an offended gasp from next to her just before being hit in the face with a Tolstoy.  

The library, thankfully, was mostly empty that day - the patrons and employees of the library all fit within the narrow aisles.  Alix and an elderly man, both dodging books, leapt to help his wife totter to safety.  They made it, but barely - Alix felt more than saw the last bookcase fall, skinning her heel and sending a great juddering  _ thud _ rippling through her body.

They were trapped, now, between two great mountains of books and heavy oak.  Behind her, the wall stood tenuous, plaster crumbling at the edges.  Before her, the floor rose imposingly overhead, individual boards popped from their supports, jutting everywhere and displaying nails of time-dulled iron.  

“Is everyone alright?”  The old man next to her called out.  Everyone in their aisle nodded, some more shakily than others.  Repeating the question more loudly, they received a smattering of affirmation from the other two aisles as well.  He turned to her and cocked an eyebrow.

She turned away, looking up.  The door was  still on the wall halfway up the building’s curve.  They were entirely removed in here, and while they were fortunate enough to have no pressing injuries, medical attention would be ideal, as would knowing what the hell was happening outside.  Had  l’Architecte moved on?  Were Ladybug or Chat Noir still in the area?  Would they be able to help, or would they be too busy with their foe?  Obviously they hadn’t defeated her yet, or the library would be back to normal - Alix thought it best to not count on having their help.

Or on having any help at all, honestly.  The situation, if it remained exactly the same and did not worsen (which seemed a lot of confidence to place in luck, in Alix’s opinion - too much), was not dire.  The library’s patrons could remain here comfortably enough for the time being, at least until Ladybug restored the city to order.  

On the other hand, if things got worse in any unfathomable way, as they seemed likely to do, they’d be trapped here, not knowing what could come or even whether anyone from the outside knew of their predicament.  It could only be assumed that l’Architecte had mutilated the library for a reason, though what that was she couldn’t guess.  Was it too much to hope that the action had moved elsewhere?

As if in answer, the building gave a great  _ crack _ and, at the height of the floor’s curl, snapped in two.

Everyone screamed and ducked - the half of the library that had broken away had taken most of the ceiling with it, and as it rolled away had pelted them with a generous dose of plaster, wood, and other leavings - when Alix dared look back up, it was to be met with the panicked eyes of the head librarian, peering out of a face so coated in plaster dust that she looked to be made of flour.  Alix had no doubt that she herself was in much the same state. 

She turned again to look at the elderly man, only to be confronted by an unpleasant streak of red marring his otherwise white-coated face.  Swallowing a fierce wave of panic, Alix stumbled the few steps over to where he stood, swaying.  A heavy chunk of debris had caught him and cut a decent gash in his head.  He smiled weakly at her, and she sighed in relief.  

_ Tis but a flesh wound _ , her mind supplied unhelpfully.

She squinted once more upwards, into what was now open air.  “I’m going to get help,” she told the old man, who looked confused, but nodded encouragingly.  Turning to his wife, who looked shaken but otherwise okay, she continued - “Keep everybody calm, if you can.  And keep an eye on him.  I don’t think he’s supposed to fall asleep.”

The woman said nothing, but smiled reassuringly at her and patted her arm.  Taking a deep breath, Alix turned to the mountain of shelves stacked along the sloped floor, and began to climb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for reading, first of all, it means a lot to me. And a special thanks to ao3 user waterlily7210 for beta reading! Go check out her stories, she's awesome!
> 
> I'm no great shakes at French (by which I mean I know like 10 words in French) so yeah. Any and all French that I have in here will be real damn easy to figure out.
> 
> I've been writing for a longgg time but this is actually the first piece of writing that I'm sharing with more than a few people (potentially), so any feedback is welcome! Thanks again for reading!
> 
> ~sheepskin22


	2. mmmmwhatchasaaaaaaaaayyyy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly just a fuck-ton of climbing.
> 
> Like. 
> 
> Oh my god my arms hurt in sympathy.

Alix had taken climbing classes once, several years ago.  Though it had been fun, she had decided not to pursue the sport any further, finding that it lacked the thrill, the excitement that she preferred.

 

In retrospect, that decision may have been a mistake.  Climbing could be plenty exciting - way,  _ way _ too exciting, under the right conditions.

 

It also would have been nice to have a bit more skill in her arsenal before attempting this particular climb.

 

She had only been about three and a half, four meters off the ground before she had realized the extent of her folly in thinking that she was in any way adequately prepared for this.  While the jumbled tower of bookcases offered plenty of wide, easy footholds, their wooden surfaces were polished slick by age and use, making a reliable grip mere fiction for her sweaty palms.  In addition, the tower was still unstable and spewing literature from every crevice - it creaked with even her smallest motions and had an alarming tendency to shower books and debris down on the small crowd below her if she made an ill-considered move.  Looking up at the precarious positioning of the bookcases above her, she swallowed convulsively.  Accident or no, it could  _ not _ be good karma to crush nine people with a bookcase.  She wondered, unhelpfully, whether Ladybug’s powers could bring someone back from the dead, especially if the cause of death was something as mundane as being squished by a stupid teenager instead of by some magic evil weirdo in tights.  

 

(She was just making assumptions on the tights thing, as she hadn’t actually seen l’Architecte.  It’s just that whoever was designing their costumes seemed to have a thing for copious amounts of spandex, like, wow.)

 

She tried to shrug off her misgivings and kept climbing - albeit very, very carefully and much, much slower than before.  Karma or no karma - magical save-the-day polkadot powers or no powers at all - squashing people like tomatoes was not on her to-do list whatsoever.  She was about halfway up the tower now - three quarters - when she heard a muffled crash and several shrill screams from the next aisle over.  The bookcase shuddered beneath her and she flattened herself instinctively against it, listening carefully.  Was someone else trying to climb the bookcase from the other side?

 

After a couple of minutes without hearing anything more, she stole a quick glance down at the company assembled below her and resumed the laborious climb upward.  Her arms were starting to burn, and her pinky and ring fingers on each hand had numbed alarmingly.  Just a few more meters - a few more - the bright blue skies beckoned to her from the doorway -  _ a few more - _

 

She reached the top.  Panting and shaking out her hands, she took stock of her new surroundings.  Across the middle aisle, another tower rose, coming even with the one that she stood on now.  The people she had left below were, amazingly, unhurt by the fallen debris of her climb.  Alix fought the insane urge to cry.

 

On the other side was the door.  It lay slightly above her on the wall across the last aisle.

 

She would have to jump.

 

She hadn’t really considered the jump when she had been on the floor, but now it stretched before her like the maw of some giant beast.  The aisle was two, three meters across, and the door lay horizontal to her across the gully, and was slightly higher on the wall than she was - a meter, maybe a bit more.   _ Kim would be able to do this _ , came the panicked thought.  Not for the first time, she regretted not joining their school’s track team. Edging over to the other side of her bookcase (the side closest to the door), she peered down.  

 

Assembled below was another group of people, somewhat smaller than the group that she had left.  Alix cupped a hand to her mouth.  

 

“HEY.”

 

Faces turned towards her.  From up here, they looked flat, like images drawn on paper.  Everything else, oddly enough, looked alarmingly dimensional.   _ Nine meter drop, maybe ten. _  Alix felt sick.

 

“I’M GOING TO GET HELP,” she called down, pointing across to the doorway.  “I’VE GOT TO JUMP, SO - UM.  BE CAREFUL DOWN THERE.”

 

Ignoring the horror flitting over the upturned faces, she straightened and backed away.  To get across to the open door, she would have to take a running jump.  Was it possible to run gingerly?  The bookshelves could topple at any moment.  Oh god.

  
  


Oh god oh god oh god oh god.

 

Little late to back out now.  

 

_ Just go quick _ , a little voice at the back of her mind supplied.   _ Like a band-aid.   _

 

Alix squeezed her eyes closed, forced them back open, and took a running leap.

 

Dimly, she was aware that people below were screaming.  Dimly, she understood that the wall was approaching much faster than it should, much faster than she was ready for.  Dimly, she felt herself grab at the door frame, struggling to find purchase, rapidly slipping away.

 

And then, abruptly, acutely,  the impact of the wall and a sharp pain through her hand as she closed her grip around the ornate ridges of the door frame’s trim.  She pulled herself up with aching arms and swung a leg over to the outside so that she was straddling the wall.  Trembling, she leaned back against the floor, hands still gripping tight to the frame, fingers as white as her face undoubtedly was.

 

“God….damn it -”

 

It took her several minutes to come back to herself, during which time she sat still in the doorway, hunched slightly to accommodate the door’s limited width.  When she was finally able, she ran a quick diagnostic check - head, fine, legs, fine, body, a little winded but a-okay, splinter the size of fucking China in her hand but whatever, no biggie, Alix was a living, breathing human being and not dead.  Not dead was good.  

 

She forced herself to look back into the library.  To her immeasurable relief, the tower of shelves had stayed upright behind her, and the people staring up at her below were unharmed.  Not only that, but they were smiling up at her,  _ cheering _ , even.  

 

...Well that was enough of THAT.  She turned away.

 

Outside the library, Paris was in shambles.  Chunks were missing out of nearby buildings, the streets were littered with debris, and far in the distance, a massive structure rose, dwarfing the nearby Eiffel by no inconsiderable amount.  She couldn’t quite make out what it was but she could swear it was  _ moving _ , trailing gradually through Paris’ scenic south side.  A small choir of car alarms was going off on the next street over, but otherwise the area lay quiet and deserted, no movement besides the occasional pigeon.  

 

It stood to reason that everyone in this part of the city would have fled or hid.  What Alix  _ hadn’t _ anticipated (but should have, she really should have) was that, having gotten up to the doorway in which she was now perched, there was no way down.  On either side.  

 

_ Shit. _

 

Her options were limited and equally unappealing.  She couldn’t jump back to the bookcase - she couldn’t even stand up, and the narrow door frame hardly allowed for a running leap.  She couldn’t climb up - her limited climbing skills had gotten her this far, but no farther.  Dropping down on either side from this height would likely break her legs, at minimum, so that was out too.  

 

All the way up to the doorframe seemed like a somewhat unfairly long way to go just to be shit out of luck, though - Alix could have stayed on the ground in the library for that.  She huffed and kicked her foot roughly against the siding of the building.

 

As if in answer, the boutique across the street gave a prolonged groan and began ripping itself apart.  Alix almost toppled backwards into the library in surprise, righting herself at the last minute with an iron grip on the frame between her thighs.  Boards from the boutique’s siding floated lazily upwards and began to stitch themselves together.  

 

In no time at all, Alix was looking at a decently wide bridge of sorts, leading straight from her doorway across to the roof of the boutique.

 

The bridge was without any supports.  It was like a hanging bridge, but without ropes or anything even tying the boards together.  Just a jumble of debris suspended in midair.  Whether she reached the roof of the boutique or not was up to (she suspected) the person who was sitting up there waiting for her.

 

...

 

Well.  Gift horse.  There was no other way down, so she’d have to take it.

 

She put a hand onto the bridge and pushed.  Steady enough, but that didn’t mean much.  Still, nothing else for it.  She began to crawl.

 

She had meant to straighten up when she got clear of the overhanging doorframe, but now, on the bridge, it felt much safer on hands and knees somehow.

 

_ It won’t make a difference. _

 

_ Shut up, shut the fuck up -  _

 

She inched her way across the bridge.

 

And inexplicably found herself safe and whole on the other side.

 

Relief warred with unease inside her as she considered the implications of this.  L’Architecte  wanted Alix, for what she couldn’t know.  

 

But Alix had seen and done some  _ shit  _ today.  Some grumpy maniac with half of a talent and a bucket full of fairy dust had  _ nothing  _ on her.   _ I am the shit. _

 

Repeating this like a mantra, she got to her feet and walked forward.  As she rounded the building’s chimney, she saw her.  L’Architecte, facing out towards the city, arms akimbo.  She looked almost like a hero from one of Nath’s comics.  Absurdly, Alix noticed that she had been right about the spandex.  She couldn’t help but feel a little smug about this.

 

Her amusement faded quickly as L’Architecte turned to face her.  

 

“Ah, l’ami de la féline.  Welcome.  I was so hoping it would be you.”

 

With this bemusing statement, the villain bent to tenderly rip a page out of the spiral-bound notebook at her feet, carefully tearing along the perforated edge.  Straightening, she smiled smugly at Alix before plunging two fingers into the taut paper.  

 

There was a moment of incomprehension as l’Architecte, smiling, let the now torn sketch of a blueprint flutter down to the roof’s shingled surface.  

 

And then the roof gave out under Alix’s feet, and everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know I'm not being very speedy with this, but I want to thank you for your patience! At least one more chapter to come, possibly two if it gets to running too long. Thank you for reading and have a good day!


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